Diamonds and Rust
by Blackwingedangel37
Summary: All Arthur had ever known was his life in the circus. Then Eames came and changed everything.


**This is all based around the wonderful artwork of Polymathema, which you can find over at Tumblr. It will give you the best visual image of what Arthur looks like within this verse.**

**Word Count: **4,119

* * *

Arthur couldn't remember anything that came before the circus. He had tried more than once, scrunching his eyes shut tight and focusing as hard as he could, but all he could ever see was blackness. It was as though he had just opened his eyes and the first thing he had seen was Dom and Mal.

Once when he was a child—or at least what could be called a child—he had asked Mal where he had come from. The smile she had given him had been so soft as she pointed to her heart saying, "You came from here. I dreamed you up."

And for all Arthur knew that might as well be true.

It wasn't as if he actually disliked his life at the circus. Far from it, in fact. The place with its multi-colored tents and worn in caravans was his _home_, even if it was the only one he had ever had.

He was quite certain anyway that this was the only place he could ever get close to feeling normal in. And that was because the place was filled with people who were just as strange as he was.

He felt the most comfortable with the ones who were physically different, like the Lobster Girl. Her real name was Angelique and she had always been kind to him, sneaking him treats like popcorn and candy. She liked that he wasn't afraid of her clawed hands and had giggled when he offered to paint her small nails. She never went out without them done up in a variety of colors now, a mark of their friendship.

But there were people at the circus that showed their differences through other ways.

Dom could snatch secrets from people's minds just by talking to them. Mal would line her eyes with smoky makeup, her voice coming out in a rasp, French accent rolling off her wards as she read the fortunes of those that came to her tent. And the fortunes always had a way of coming true.

Yusuf sold concoctions for just about everything from his stand, only ever winking if someone asked what ingredients he used. And little Ariadne who could build all sorts of illusions that no one ever had any reason not to believe to be real. All she had to do was bat her eye and buildings would rush up seemingly out of the ground.

And the circus was _safe_ too, something made sure of by their benefactor Saito. Anyone who dared to try to mock its occupants found themselves being quickly and firmly removed.

So, in the end, the circus was probably the best place for him to be. And besides, the people in the place were the ones who raised him, people that he counted as his family. He didn't know how he could ever leave them.

He stayed instead, letting time slip by in a complacent manner. He spent a great deal of it wanting to grow bigger than he was, feeling stuck in his small body. He wanted something without knowing what it was, just knowing that it was _more_.

And it was right at this stage in his life that Eames arrived.

* * *

When asked why he had come to the circus, Eames had just replied that it had seemed like fun. It wouldn't come out until later that he, like everyone else in the circus, hadn't had any other choice.

At that moment, however, he was standing in the big top before the Cobbs. Everyone else was seated in the stands, peering down in open curiosity at the man. New members were very rare, after all.

Angelique leaned in close to Arthur to keep her words a secret. Not that she needed to worry. With all the other people tittering around them her words were nearly indistinguishable from the rest. "Maybe he's one of us!"

Arthur examined the man, taking in the board shoulders and plush, almost feminine mouth that offset other handsome features. "He's not one of ours," he said. He didn't add on what they both had to know, "He's too good-looking."

Angelique pushed her lower lip out into a pout, clearly put out. "You never know," she said. "he could be hiding scales under that shirt of his."

Arthur found this highly unlikely, but he kept quiet, not wanting to upset his friend further.

Dom, meanwhile, was leaning back against the wooden frame that surrounded the arena. "So, Mr. Eames, what is it you can do?" he asked.

"Just Eames if you please," Eames said. His voice was a rumble of slow, easy words softened by an English accent. "And can't you tell? I thought you were the mind reader around here."

Dom's eyes widened, clearly not having expected such knowledge to be common. Then he huffed out a laugh. "I'm guessing Saito told you?"

"Why yes," Eames replied. There was a touch of amusement in his voice. "He thought I should know what I was getting myself into."

"Right," Dom snorted. He fixed Eames with a firm look. "The only question is whether you'll return the favor."

"Of course, my dear sir," Eames said. "Fair is fair as it were." He didn't say anything more after that just taking a step back before going absolutely still.

For a few seconds it seemed like nothing was happening. Then Eames' body almost seemed to flicker and Arthur realized that it was actually _changing_.

No one else was talking anymore. Everyone was leaning forward in their seats. The shifts were so minute that they were difficult to follow, but Arthur kept his eyes wide open, not wanting to miss a thing. Eventually though even he couldn't resist the instinctual urge to blink and when he opened his eyes again—as quickly as he could—there was another Dom standing there.

Dom—the original one—was standing up straight now, his mouth hanging open as he looked at his double.

Mal, on the other hand, just gave two slow blinks. Then she was clapping her hands together in delight with a grin on her face. "Oh, bravo, Mr. Eames! Bravo!"

The other Dom flashed her a smile that was slyer than any the original would use before dipping down into a low bow, arm thrown out in a flourish. "_Merci_, Madame." It sent a jolt through Arthur to realize that even the _voice_ was Dom's. "Although I did say you could just call me Eames."

"I'll consider that once I see the rest of your skill set." Something almost wicked flashed through Mal's eyes. "How do you handle those of the female persuasion?"

The shift was quicker this time, perhaps because Eames was already warmed up. All it took was a few second—maybe even less than that—for a copy of Mal to be standing there, looking odd in Eames' much less fashionable clothes.

Mal let out a burst of laughter at that and even Dom was starting to look a little amused.

"So you're a shapeshifter then," he said. "And an impressive one at that, I'll admit. But do you stick only to humans?"

Eames offered the man a grin. "Of course not," he said. "It wouldn't do to limit myself."

Dom snorted at that. "Well don't hold back then," he said.

"Never," Eames replied." He scanned the crowd up in the stands before his eyes landed, inexplicably, on Arthur.

Arthur was hardly aware of Angelique's squeals and the way she was nudging his arm because Eames chose that moment to _smile_ at him. His stomach was squirming for some reason and he felt like he should look away but he couldn't. It felt like all these pieces were sliding into place inside of him and he didn't even know that that meant.

Then Eames' eyes were dropping away from him and the feeling was gone like it had never been there.

And Eames was changing again too. Everyone in the stands was whispering amongst themselves, trying to guess what form the man would take next.

Arthur knew that Angelique was trying to do the same with him, but he was too preoccupied with analyzing every alteration Eames went through. His brow furrowed when the man shrunk a foot or two. He had thought Eames would turn into some sort of animal, not something around Arthur's own height.

Perhaps that should have served as a forewarning. Yet Arthur didn't realize what was going on until Eames' face more petite and angular, his ears shooting up into feathered points along with a downy plume that wrapped around his neck. And then came the finishing touch—the wings.

It was a double of _Arthur_ standing down there, swamped in Eames' too big, ridiculous clothes.

Arthur was aware of everyone's eyes turning towards him and for a second he didn't understand what was going on. Eames was suppose to be turning into something that wasn't human. So why would he turn into Arthur?

Something cold gripped Arthur then. Why would Eames do such a thing unless he thought Arthur wasn't human?

Arthur swallowed hard, fighting back tears that he was determined not to let anyone see fall. He had suffered enough embarrassment that day as it was.

He shot to his feet, ignoring the way Angelique called out to him. He stormed all the way down to the arena where the Cobbs were exchanging nervous glances.

But Arthur wasn't paying any attention to them. He only had eyes for Eames, who had shifted back into his usual self at some point when Arthur hadn't been looking. He stopped right in front of the man, tipping his head back so he could look right up into his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists and his whole body felt like it was shaking with anger.

"How dare you…you…" Arthur racked his mind, searching for the most nasty word he could think of. "You bastard!"

He heard Mal gasp from behind him and Dom let out a sharp, "Arthur!"

But Arthur didn't turn around. He kept his eyes locked on Eames, waiting for the blow to sink in and knowing it had when the man stepped back, looking surprised.

Then Arthur ran out of the big top before anyone could stop him.

* * *

Arthur spent the rest of the day on top of the caravan until evening descended around him. He wasn't suppose to be up there. Mal had told him more than once how dangerous it was, something only strengthened by Dom's warnings that he would fall off and hurt himself. But he was still upset and that made him want to be rebellious. So the top of the caravan it was.

Angelique had come by at some point with the dinner he had refused to get himself. She had done her best to convince him to come down, assuring him that no one blamed him for what happened. According to her, Mal had given Eames a lengthy chewing out that involved one or two whaps upside the head. That had been something which had made him happy, even it hadn't been enough to convince him to come down.

She had left awhile ago, though, after realizing that she wouldn't be able to get through to him. She had made him promise, if half-heartedly, that he wouldn't actually sleep on top of the caravan so he wouldn't catch his death.

He knew that he would have to come down eventually. He just didn't want to. If he came down then he would have to face Eames and the thought of that still made his feathers stand on end. He had never met a man who affected him so strongly.

"Hello up there!"

Arthur was dropping onto his stomach in a heartbeat, wings folding down across his back. Maybe, if he were lucky, he hadn't really been spotted and that voice would disappear along with its owner.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case.

"Oh, come now! There's no need to hide."

Arthur brought his head up a little, eyes narrowing as they landed on Eames. "What do you want?"

"Well aren't you a feisty one." Eames held up his hands when Arthur scowled at him. "I just can't do right by you, can I?"

"No," Arthur said. "So go away."

"Can't do that," Eames said. "Sorry to disappoint." He didn't sound sorry at all, however.

"Yes you can," Arthur said. "just use the legs that got you here and go away."

"Well yes," Eames said, "but then I would have to face the possibility of being skinned by Mal."

"Right," Arthur said, "so go." But when he popped his head up again Eames was still there.

The man fidgeted for a bit before letting out a sigh. "You really don't like me, do you?" he said.

Arthur couldn't stop the way his voice rose up, becoming almost shrill. "You made fun of me!" He ducked back down after that, not knowing what had come over him. What was it about this man that caused him to lose his control?

"Ah." There came the sound of a throat being cleared. "Well I didn't mean to."

"But you did," Arthur said. It sounded sulky even to him.

"Care to tell me how I did so?" Eames asked.

Arthur was quiet for one long moment before it all came out in a rush. "You were suppose to turn into something that wasn't human and you turned into me."

"But you're not human, darling," Eames said.

"I'm not an animal!" Arthur snapped. "And don't use pet names!" Only the girls at the circus, like Mal, Angelique, and Ariadne, ever used such terms of endearment with him. There was the occasional "buddy" from Dom as well, but that was it.

"Alright, none of that then." Eames' voice became softer, almost gentle. "And I don't think you're an animal. That wasn't what I was thinking."

"Then why did you do it?" Arthur demanded.

Eames took a deep breath, as if to steady himself for something. "Because you're not human. Not really. You're something supernatural." He was answered by nothing by silence. "Am I right?"

"I don't know." Arthur pushed himself up onto his elbows, his voice small. "I don't know what I'm suppose to be."

Eames' face changed then. The easy confidence slipped away to be replaced first by surprise and then by a near sadness that Arthur hoped wasn't pity.

"Oh." He ran a hand through his hair. "that explains why you were so upset when I used you for a forge then. I really am sorry about that, I swear. I wouldn't have done it if I had known."

"Forge?" Arthur piped up before he could help it.

Eames seemed just as surprised by the question as Arthur was, but he jumped on the break in the argument. "It's what I call what I do. I make copies of people like others do with paintings."

"People do that?" Arthur said.

"When they can get away with it." Eames cocked his head to the side. "Well they do outside of this place."

Arthur scurried upwards at that, his previous anger completely forgotten in his newfound interest. "you mean the world outside? You've been there?"

Eames blinked up at him then laughed. "I grew up there," he said. He cast Arthur a smile that was far too like the one he had given him in the big top, making him duck his head. "have you ever been there?"

"No." Arthur had only caught glimpses of the towns they sometimes passed through and that was only when necessary. The circus usually stuck to back roads that lead through forests and the large grassy fields they set up camp in. "I've only ever been here."

"And how long has that been, might I ask?" Eames said. He rubbed at his chin as he looked Arthur up and down, making the boy squirm just a bit. "You look like a seven year old, but you talk like you're much older."

Arthur held out a hand wiggling his fingers for Eames count. "I've been here for five years. So I guess that's how old I am." He had had give birthday celebrations so far and he was pretty sure you were suppose to have those when got another year older.

He had brought that surprised look back to Eames' face. "You're only _five_?" The man let out a low whistle. "You're quite big for your age."

"I want to be bigger," Arthur said. He wasn't sure why he was telling Eames this. Wasn't he suppose to be mad at him? Yet it was hard to stay angry with the man smiling at him like that.

"And I'm sure you will," Eames said. And Arthur squirmed against the warmth that bloomed in his stomach. Eames' words didn't hold any of the usual condescension. It sounded like a promise instead. "Now why don't you come down from there?"

"Why should I?" Arthur tossed back. It was meant more as a tease than to provoke an argument, though.

And from the way Eames chuckled he knew it. "Because you'll catch a nasty cold that will make you regret it later. So just fly down here and we'll put you to bed."

The last part of that caught Arthur off guard. "Fly?"

"Yeah," Eames said. "Isn't that how you got up there in the first place?"

"No, I climbed up," The caravan had all sorts of odds and ends on it that made it fairly easy to scale.

Eames' brow was furrowed. "Why would you bother with that when you have wings like yours?"

The question probed at something inside Arthur, the part of him that yearned for something more. "I don't fly." He lowered his head under Eames' wide eyed stare. "I can hover, though." He didn't like how much like an excuse it sounded.

"What makes you sure you can't?" Eames asked. "Have you ever tried to?"

Arthur frowned at him. "I don't need to try it," he said. "I just know."

"Now what kind of answer is that?" Eames said. "You'll never know what you can do unless you try, after all." He tipped his head back, eyes on the wide expanse of night sky. "I know that if I had wings like yours I would want to fly everywhere. I wouldn't touch down to the earth unless I had to. It would be the closest to freedom that any of us could get."

And that, oh, _that_.

Arthur couldn't even breathe for a few, long moments. The longing in him had leapt out at those words, causing his heart to beat in a way that should have been far too painful to bear. And yet there was such a sweet edge to it.

It was gone as abruptly as it had come, leaving him feeling strangely bereft. Then he was aware of Eames' eyes on him and he turned his head away, hoping the man hadn't been able to read anything in his face.

"It's not like that for me." His words came out clipped due to his lingering confusion of what had just happened. "I wouldn't have anywhere else to go. I _belong_ here."

It was silent after his outburst for so long that he started to think that Eames had gone. But then the deep, easy roll of that voice was back.

"Well then, how about this?" Arthur looked down to find Eames beaming up at him. "Why don't you prove me wrong?"

Arthur could do nothing but blink at first until his mind made sense of what he had heard. "Excuse me?"

"Prove me wrong," Eames repeated. "Jump right off that perch of yours and try to fly."

"What if I fall?" Arthur asked. "Dom and Mal will _kill_ you if I get hurt."

"Thank you for showing such concern for my wellbeing," Eames said, "but I assure you that nothing will happen to either of us." He took a few steps backwards, spreading out his arms. "If you fall then I'll catch you."

"and I'm suppose to trust you?" Arthur said.

"No matter what you might think about me," Eames said, "I'm not cruel enough to let you fall. Besides, my skin is on the line as much as yours, if you remember. If you get hurt then the Cobbs will murder me in a heartbeat." His smile morphed into a smirk without warning. "Come on then. I _dare_ you."

The goading tone in those words made Arthur's feathers bristle. "Fine, if it will make you shut up."

He rose to his feet, legs a little wobbly as he tried to find his balance. He hesitated once he was fully up, however, wondering if he was really going to go through with something so crazy. But then he glanced down to find Eames staring up at him with such a cocky expression that he was seized by the urge to wipe it right off his face.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight before taking off in a sprint. He didn't allow himself to pause once he felt the edge, jumping up instead.

After that there was nothing but air under his feet and all around him.

His stomach flipped over immediately, but he pushed his panic away. He had to focus on his wings if this was going to work at all. _Come on_,he willed at them,_ move_.

When he received nothing more than a faint twitch from his wings in response to his efforts he almost gave up completely. But there was an even stronger part of him that reared up in rejection of that failure. So he gritted his teeth, letting a single command echo through his mind—_move_.

His eyes were shooting open a half a second later as he was suddenly jerked up into the air. He was about halfway above the ground and there was a whooshing sound behind him because his wings were beating stronger than they ever had before.

He let out a loud laugh before he could help it. He had never felt so filled with joy before. All it took was the hint of an idea to send him higher into the air.

He looked for Eames to find the man beaming up at him, seeming so _proud_.

"I knew you could do it!" the man cried. "I knew it!"

Arthur didn't even bother to think before launching himself at Eames. He hit the man with enough velocity to send them both crashing to the ground, but the field was too soft for either of them to be badly hurt.

Arthur flung his arms around Eames' neck, hiding his grin the man's shoulder. "Thank you," he said.

Eames must have known how important such an admission was because he wrapped his arms around Arthur and just said, "You're welcome, darling."

* * *

Arthur showed off his new ability to everyone in the big top the next morning to rounds of applause and gasps. Mal threw her arms around him the instant he returned to the ground.

Dom clapped a hand on his shoulder next with a grin. "That was brilliant, Arthur," he said. "With some practice you come even have your own show."

Arthur's head snapped up at that, unable to stop the tremble of excitement that ran through his wings. "Really?" Not many people preformed in the big top, doing their own shows in private stands or tents. To be allowed to be a part of the big top line up was a sign that you had real talent.

"I don't see why not." Eames sauntered into view, grinning when Arthur looked at him. "I can help you come up with one if you want, darling."

"You?" Dom's brow furrowed. "And why are you calling him 'darling' of all things?"

"Because he's an idiot." Arthur wrangled his way out of Mal's arms so he could move towards Eames. "Can you really help me?"

"Of course I can," Eames said. "Even though you think I'm an idiot."

"An idiot that taught me to fly," Arthur said. "I think I can at least trust you not to screw up my act."

He held out his hand, letting it be encased in Eames' larger one, which radiated warmth. He let out a yelp, however, when the man used the grip to pull him up into his arms instead of shaking his hand.

Eames only laughed when Arthur scowled at him. "I'll get you to like me yet," he said.

Arthur ducked his head so that Eames couldn't read his face and see that he already did. It wouldn't do for the man's ego to grow even bigger, after all.


End file.
